Published by Dorling Kindersley, this hardback glossy volume is primarily intended for younger readers of D.C. comics, setting this apart from the continuous cultural shift in people's opinions on what adult themes comics are capable of expressing. Bolstered by the positive critical reaction to recent Hollywood blockbusters like the revived Superman and Batman franchises, critical and public attitudes alike have moved to a position where comic books can give insight into and comment upon societal turmoil, psychological disorders and war. The term graphic novel -- often used to describe compilations of separately written comics -- has emerged as an intellectual euphemism if you will, giving readers a neat term which renders the form more "legitimate". Alan Moore's "Watchmen" was voted one of the 20th century's best novels by Time magazine, dealing with the question of if these vigilantes truly existed.

Written in an accessible style and aimed at a younger audience, the Encyclopedia has no such pretensions about sophistication. A vast array of minor and major comic book characters from the D.C. universe are described, accompanied by one or more drawings. Their vital statistics and superpowers are listed, as well as their first appearance in a D.C. publication. Batman's more illustrious and fantastic adventures are described in a four (large) paged entry; theories of dystopia are dispensed with altogether. There are also large spreads on the big stars of D.C. comics -- Superman, The Justice League Of America, The Green Lantern and Marvel Man. This indeed works very well on its own terms -- it should satisfy comic collectors, fans and the curious alike.

Also, some of the more obscure heroes and villains are exciting to discover. Often they are incredibly quirky -- The Inferior Five, for example, are a “superhero” team comprised of talented but crucially flawed characters (one member is a highly skilled archer who is afraid of open spaces). Others are products of a propagandist mindset -- Captain Nazi is a WWII era German schemer, created after the United States' entry into the war, wearing a conspicuous swastika on his vest (in case you missed the implications of his political allegiance). Reflecting the late 1960s, there are the twins Hawk and Dove, created in the midst of an America wrestling with its feelings on the Vietnam war. The former is right wing, the latter left wing, and they fight together for “the greater good”. There is even a Mossad created group known as the Hayoth who first emerged in the early 1990s; one of their fiercest rivals were a Middle East terror organization known as Jihad -- here comic art predates a contemporary and widespread awareness of these issues.

Those looking for more weighty analysis should Google for journal articles on Alan Moore's deconstruction of pop cultural forms, or the archetypal Jungian madness suggested by Heath Ledger's depiction of the Joker. Indeed, it is a shame that an account of the comic medium couldn't encompass, for example, the anti-authoritarian stance of Grant Morrison's version of the D.C. super-team Doom Patrol. However, this is not the book's purpose -- it succeeds on its own, more fantastical terms, similar to the older Marvel Universe series.

White Hills epic '80s callback
Stop Mute Defeat is a determined march against encroaching imperial darkness; their eyes boring into the shadows for danger but they're aware that blinding lights can kill and distort truth. From "Overlord's" dark stomp casting nets for totalitarian warnings to "Attack Mode", which roars in with the tribal certainty that we can survive the madness if we keep our wits, the record is a true and timely win for Dave W. and Ego Sensation. Martin Bisi and the poster band's mysterious but relevant cool make a great team and deliver one of their least psych yet most mind destroying records to date. Much like the first time you heard Joy Division or early Pigface, for example, you'll experience being startled at first before becoming addicted to the band's unique microcosm of dystopia that is simultaneously corrupting and seducing your ears. - Morgan Y. Evans

The year in song reflected the state of the world around us. Here are the 70 songs that spoke to us this year.

70. The Horrors - "Machine"

On their fifth album V, the Horrors expand on the bright, psychedelic territory they explored with Luminous, anchoring the ten new tracks with retro synths and guitar fuzz freakouts. "Machine" is the delicious outlier and the most vitriolic cut on the record, with Faris Badwan belting out accusations to the song's subject, who may even be us. The concept of alienation is nothing new, but here the Brits incorporate a beautiful metaphor of an insect trapped in amber as an illustration of the human caught within modernity. Whether our trappings are technological, psychological, or something else entirely makes the statement all the more chilling. - Tristan Kneschke

"...when the history books get written about this era, they'll show that the music community recognized the potential impacts and were strong leaders." An interview with Kevin Erickson of Future of Music Coalition.

Last week, the musician Phil Elverum, a.k.a. Mount Eerie, celebrated the fact that his album A Crow Looked at Me had been ranked #3 on the New York Times' Best of 2017 list. You might expect that high praise from the prestigious newspaper would result in a significant spike in album sales. In a tweet, Elverum divulged that since making the list, he'd sold…six. Six copies.

Under the lens of cultural and historical context, as well as understanding the reflective nature of popular culture, it's hard not to read this film as a cautionary tale about the limitations of isolationism.

I recently spoke to a class full of students about Plato's "Allegory of the Cave". Actually, I mentioned Plato's "Allegory of the Cave" by prefacing that I understood the likelihood that no one had read it. Fortunately, two students had, which brought mild temporary relief. In an effort to close the gap of understanding (perhaps more a canyon or uncanny valley) I made the popular quick comparison between Plato's often cited work and the Wachowski siblings' cinema spectacle, The Matrix. What I didn't anticipate in that moment was complete and utter dissociation observable in collective wide-eyed stares. Example by comparison lost. Not a single student in a class of undergraduates had partaken of The Matrix in all its Dystopic future shock and CGI kung fu technobabble philosophy. My muted response in that moment: Whoa!

Allen Ginsberg and Robert Lowell at St. Mark's Church in New York City, 23 February 1977

Scholar Christopher Grobe crafts a series of individually satisfying case studies, then shows the strong threads between confessional poetry, performance art, and reality television, with stops along the way.

Tracing a thread from Robert Lowell to reality TV seems like an ominous task, and it is one that Christopher Grobe tackles by laying out several intertwining threads. The history of an idea, like confession, is only linear when we want to create a sensible structure, the "one damn thing after the next" that is the standing critique of creating historical accounts. The organization Grobe employs helps sensemaking.